Prom Night
by karamelj
Summary: It's only onen night, how much could that affect someone?
1. What I Am and What She's Not

**I know, I know. I haven't posted a story in about three months, but this is a long one.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Sims2 or the Sims3 or facebook**

***Cora***

I open my instant messenger once I sit at the computer. Immediately after typing in my password I double click on the Sims3 icon on my desktop. I have a bit of an obsession with the Sims. It all started last year when I accidentally bought an expansion pack for the Sims2 instead of the actual game. It's a funny story actually.

No. It's not. I just lied to you. It's the most boring story in the whole world.

Anyways.

Computers have to load, as you know, and mine always takes forever to do so, leaving plenty of time for Mike, a friend of mine that I had crushed on around the beginning of the new year, to send me a message.

Mike: Hello, Cora. What're you up to?

Cora: Playing Sims. You know me. You?

Mike: Freaking out. Prom's this Friday and I don't

have a date.

Cora: What's wrong with going stag? That's cool now.

Mike: Yeah, but I told my friends I have a girlfriend.

Cora: You're screwed.

Mike: That lives in Boston.

Cora: You're screwed.

Mike: That's a sophomore.

Cora: You're screwed.

Mike: That might not get a prom next year.

Cora: You're screwed.

Mike: That goes to your school.

Cora: You're screwed.

Mike: I told them she's you.

Cora: -CENSORED-

I click away to the Sims again, irate. But the game has to load again and it dings, like, five times in a row. And being a sophomore that goes to prom isn't exactly the worst thing for my rep. Plus I _do_ have a dress. The one from my Sweet Sixteen would look nice for a prom…

Cora: I will go to the prom with you under 2

conditions.

Mike: Which are?

Cora: (1) You understand that the only reason I'm going to this with you is to boost my rep.

Mike: Okay. Two?

Cora: You will be my slave for the rest of your life.

Mike: You have to go next year for that one.

Cora: Only if you can't get another date.

Mike: Deal.

Cora: Good Now go grow me some sugar cane, slave!

Mike: Don't you mean cotton?

Cora: No. I want white gold! Grow it now!

***Nick***

My girlfriend is cheating on me.

Nick Jonas and the Administration is taking this impromptu tour: fifteen days, fifteen states. We're covering the entire east coast. Why? Because my girlfriend said it would be a good idea. The same one that's cheating on me because, unlike Rebecca, that's my girlfriend, I'm only seeing one person.

"Hey, baby," Rebecca says, wrapping her arms around my neck in an attempt at a hug from behind. She twists my head and kisses me. When my neck is free again, I see one of the stage hands, a young one, about my age, with a red face and an uncertain grin. That's the second time I've seen him like that. Today. He's the one. Oh, I can't wait to ax him Friday.

"Hi," I say, writing in the notebook on the arm of my chair. For some reason, all this week I've been doing nothing but writing songs. It's like something inspired me so much that it just has to burst out of me.

"Can't you say anything else?" Rebecca asks, sliding around the chair and starting to sit on my lap. My first instinct is to push her away, but she turns it into a big thing when I do that, so I put my guitar on the floor instead.

Right now I'm a little annoyed at her. Rebecca's been touring with me and she _always_ has to start caring about me when I'm on a roll. And she doesn't even understand why that annoys me! How hard is it? Nick+music=life. Nick-music=despair+darkness.

The sad part is this: I care about music more than her. I know that sounds harsh, but I wouldn't give up my music for anything. Not even to keep Rebecca with me. I have never met a girl I stop playing music for.

If they're all like Rebecca, maybe I never will.

"What do you want me to say?" I ask, putting my arms around her waist to keep her from falling down.

"Tell me you love me," she says quietly.

Of course she wants to hear the one thing I can't tell her. For reasons why, see above.

"Your prom's Friday, right?" I ask. She's going to be upset that I changed the subject, but she whispered it, so maybe I could get away with saying I didn't hear it.

"Yeah," she says. "You're picking me up at six."

"Okay," I say. "And I'm driving?"

"Yeah. Sort of saying, the poor try to be rich and the rich can be poor."

"How, again, are we proving this?

"Everyone's renting a limo and you're driving. You're in the upper class, but you're driving so you look poor, while the middle class rents a limo to look rich."

"Okay." I still don't understand what she's saying, but that's what you get for dating a girl that goes to a nerd school.

"Hey, do you want to be the best boyfriend ever?"

"Who wants a ticket?"

"Write me a song."

Write her a song? Okay, about what? How she's cheating on me? How physical she is? How I realize I don't love her? Oh, here's the winner: I'll write about how she's crushing my lap right now.

"Okay," I say, choosing my topic. "I'll play it for you Saturday."

"You're the best," she says. "I love you."

You're bi-polar.

***Cora***

Why don't people answer their phones anymore?

I have been calling Mike for ten minutes and he has _not_ answered. Tonight is the night of _his_ prom and I have an emergency.

"Hello?" Mike answers eight calls later.

"I need to come early and use your bathroom," I blurt. He's silent for a minute. "Your shower specifically. The water heater's broken. Please don't make me take a cold shower."

"Okay," he replies.

"You're the best. I just took two years off your sentence."

"How long do I have now?"

"Eighty-eight years." I grab my dress and rush downstairs.

It's one of the fastest rides I've ever taken and I thank God for the short distance between point A and point B. When we pull up, Mike comes running out.

"Hello, Cora," he says, hugging me tightly. "My mom thinks you're my girlfriend too," he whispers.

"What?" I ask, pushing him away and glaring.

"I guess I just earned those two years back," he says in an attempt at a joke.

"And five more," I say seriously, ripping my dress out of the car. "Where are the facilities?"

"Up the stairs, first door on your left," he replies, pointing at the house.

When I emerge from the bathroom forty-five minutes later, fully dressed and made up. Mike gives me the once over and says, "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," I accept. "You don't look too bad yourself."

"Thank you," he says, reaching for my hand. I pull away. "Now, let's not forget: we're putting on a show for my mother." He reaches for me again.

"You're hiding something," I announce, looking him in the eyes. "What?"

"Well," he replies, stepping out of arms reach, "I may or may not have told people some false facts about you, such as, GPA, taste in music, career decision, favorite subject, political leaning, and religious beliefs. Oh and I told them you're a complete non-conformist."

"You. Are. Dead," I say. "I'm out of here." I head for the stairs, but Mike pins me to the wall. "Let go of me," I order.

"Not until you promise to go along with my plan."

Then he looks at me beseechingly and I feel sorry for him. Maybe I had stopped having feelings for him a long time ago, but he _is _still my friend. And I _don't_ throw my friends under buses.

"You get ten more years _and_ I want an Oscar. Tell me all about myself."

***Nick***

It's not just the stagehand.

Rebecca disappeared about two seconds after we got here half-an-hour ago, leaving me to fend for myself at a prom where the girls don't like me and the boys hate me more, which leaves me at the punch bowl with a glass in my hand.

A wall flower. Me, Nick Jonas, the wall flower.

Not to be vain, but what the heck?

"Hey," a guy says, getting some punch, "have you seen Mike's girl?"

"Oooooh yeah," another one says. "That girl is almost as hot as Rebecca."

Great, two guys talking about my girlfriend. Awesome prom. I'm _so_ happy I missed my own for once: this sucks.

"She's also some kind of genius," the first one says. "She's only a sophomore, but she's taking four honors courses and two AP's. I heard Yale already has her on their mailing list."

"Yeah, but Mike's the only one that could put up with her," his friends said. "She hates everything having to do with pop culture: only listens to music before 1980. She wants everything in the new century to die, especially the Jonas Brothers."

"Can't blame her there. She's the one with the hate group on facebook, right?"

"Yeah. **DUUUUUUDE!** Two chicks, no guys, great song." They sprint across the dance floor.

I'm pretty cool with non-fans; I can't make them like me, but a hate group? She's taken it over the top. What have I done to deserve her hate? People like that really annoy me.

I take a look around for Mike; I met him once, and see him sitting at a table. There's a huge group of people, so it's impossible to tell which girl is his girlfriend.

Okay, found: Mike and girlfriend. Still missing: Rebecca, my girlfriend.


	2. The Night is YoungDon't Let it Age!

**Again, it's been awhile since I've posted, but I swear there'll be more by next week at the latest. Also, as if it isn't obvious, I have never been to a prom, so this is **_**all**_** made up. The punch, the table, everything. All I've got for reference are movies and TV shows and pure imagination.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Patriots, the Jets or 'Tik-Tok' by Kesha**

***Cora***

I'm going to kill Mike. I'm so serious. .Dead.

When we got here twenty minutes ago, I saw Nick Jonas with his girlfriend here. I just want to go over and talk to him, not even confess my undying fan-love for him, just talk. But _**NOOOO**_, I _hate_ him.

I hate Mike. That's who I hate.

"Excuse me," I say, standing up. "I shall return."

I pull out my cell phone on the way to the restroom. I start dialing Rose's number to see if she can bail me out. That's when I notice Rebecca. Mike introduced me to her almost immediately. She said she was Nick Jonas' girlfriend.

I'm just telling you what she said.

She _seems_ pretty friendly with the guy who has her pressed against the wall and is sucking her face off. She seemed really nice earlier; I'm so bummed that I have to hate her. Nothing personal, I just have this thing about people that cheat on their significant other: they should go die in a ditch. How can you do that to someone? Wouldn't _you_ flip if that happened to _you_?

Instead of calling Rose, I was my hands and review everything I have to pretend to be and like. Then I take a breath, whisper a prayer for strength and exit the bathroom to see Rebecca still there.

With another guy.

Okay, now it's reached the point of whore. Two guys in five minutes? What.. Again, nothing personal, I just have this thing about people who cheat with multiple people: they should be rolled out of that ditch and run over by a car fifteen times. Harsh, I know, but isn't one enough?

Someone really needs to tell Nick Jonas this. Damn it, why can't it be me? Everyone else knows about it, I bet. They're probably just trying to save Rebecca's butt. I don't care about her. Why shouldn't I be the one to tell him? Maybe if I make it look like he started the conversation…

I go back and sit down next to Mike. He and his friends are 'discussing' World War I, my fake favorite historical war (French Revolution in reality). The good thing is that we've covered it in history so I know what's going on. The one thing about Mike's friends is that their favorite thing to do is debate. That's the only thing they've done all night and I'm supposedly on my school's debate team, so I *chokes on word* love *makes disgusted face* it as well.

I look up and see Nick Jonas standing by the punch bowl, still alone and my heart breaks for him. He needs to know. I don't want to be the one to tell him for two reasons:

He'll probably hate me for it.

I've had a huge crush on him since eighth grade (for reasons why this is bad, see above).

But someone needs to tell him about Rebecca and no one else will ruin her fun, so it has to be me.

I hate my life.

***Nick***

Good news: I'm not the only one missing a date.

Bad news: All the other missing ones are boys.

There are three girls standing right in front of me talking about how their boyfriends disappeared. I just tried empathizing with them and they gave me a death glare until I started talking to the other wall flowers about football.

They decided to leave me too because they all love the Patriots and I'm a Jets fan. So now I'm a lonely wall flower by the punch bowl. Fun. And it's only quarter past eight.

A girl in a purple dress and very curly brown hair comes up beside me.

"This prom sucks," I say aloud, inviting her to talk to me. _Please talk to me. I'm so lonely over here. I promise I won't talk about football._

"I concur," she replies. Then she picks up the punch ladle and pours the contents into a cup. She starts to take a sip then sniffs it and looks at me.

"Is this buzzed?" she asks.

"Probably, it _is_ prom," I reply. She puts down the cup. "Smart decision. I'd do the same, but then I'd really look lonely. Lonelier than I already look. Lonelier than I sound."

"Alcohol should be banned like it was in the twenties," she says. "And there should be harsher laws for violators of the age restriction." She gives me a look.

"Oh, I'm not dinking this stuff," I say, putting down the cup. "I just want it to seem like I serve a purpose standing over here. I'm the same as you, won't drink for three years [and a few months]."

"One, I'll never drink," she says, raising her index finger. "And two, I wouldn't drink in three years anyways. I'd only be nineteen."

"You're sixteen now?" I ask, giving her the once over. Twice over. Thrice over.

"You can stop checking me out now."

"I'm not checking you out. I'm just having trouble believing that you're sixteen."

"I'm old for my age."

"Apparently. Why exactly are you at prom?"

"I'm here with my boyfriend. His friends are my type of people, unlike all the idiots I attend school with. And I've been thinking that it's time for me to move on and make some friends. It's been seven years since I stopped caring and I suddenly started caring again."

"Seven years? What happened?"

"Duke, my best friend, died. It was the worst moment of my life."

"Well, Olivia, I'm here for you," I offer her my hand, "Nick Jonas." She looks at my hand with distain and I realize who she is. "But I guess you wouldn't want me as your friend. Okay then, have a nice life." I turn and start to walk away, determined not to return until she had disappeared.

"Pause," I hear the girl say. I turn and see her with her arms crossed. "Rewind. Freeze. Rewrite. Play. That's not how it happened in my head."

"Next time write me a script," I say. "But hopefully there will be no next time." I turn on my heel.

"I hope there is," she whispers. I look at her, confused. She's turned away from the prom, biting her lip and looking at me apologetically. "Pull me aside," she orders softly.

I don't know why, but I grab her arm and drag her off. She stands there with her arms crossed and an annoyed expression on her face.

"Do you want to talk to me or not?" I say in reply to her expression. "Make up your mind."

"It's just so that everyone thinks I don't want to talk to you," she explains kindly. I look at her, bewildered. "Look, everything you've heard, except that my name is Cora Royce and I'm the best actress on the East Coast, is a lie," she tells me.

This girl is _really_ messing up my head. Her voice says 'believe me', but her body language says 'back off'. I don't know which is true.

"Why?" I ask.

"Mike, who isn't my boyfriend, has been telling lies about a girlfriend so he could look good. Monday he asked me to be this imaginary girl and I don't let friends embarrass themselves like that. But, truth be told, I didn't even know I was pretending until abort three hours ago. I was annoyed at first, but it gives me acting experience and I seem to be doing a good job so far."

"What?" I ask. "So you don't hate pop culture, you don't want me to die, and you're not against alcohol?"

"Exactly," she says. "Pop culture entertains me. If you died I would be pretty upset as long as you were dead and buried in the same month. And the only reason I'm so against alcohol is that using the way I want to right now is not good."

"How do you want to use it right now?"

"To get through another three hours with them," she nods towards Mike & Friends, who happen to be staring at us.

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask, seeing Mike stand up and sensing our time ticking away.

"I want you to trust me," she says, "even though I have to tell you some very bad news."

'Bad news'? It must be about Rebecca. She knows where she is.

"Where's Becca?" I ask. She opens her mouth to speak as Mike comes up next to her and putting an arm around her waist.

"What's going on, babe?" he asks.

"I was just telling Nick here that I saw Rebecca by the bathrooms a few minutes ago," Cora says.

"I could have sworn I saw her by the coat room," Mike lies. "Let's get back to the others." He drags Cora away and I walk away from the punch bowl for the last time, pulling a CD from inside of my tux jacket.

***Cora***

"I love this song," I tell Mike as 'Tik-Tok' by Ke$ha starts playing. "Let's dance."

"You don't dance," Mike informs me.

I don't dance? Okay. Goodbye thirteen years of lessons, Ballroom Dance Team/Club, and Italian blood. He'll be my slave in the afterlife too for this.

"Why were you talking to him?" a girl asks me. "I thought you hated him."

"I can be civil," I say. "My parents raised me right. I only outright flip out at people I loath." My eyes flick to Mike and the table falls silent, sensing some sort of tension in our 'relationship'.

"But Mike said-,"

"Mike, what the hell? Why would I be so rude to a person I've never met?" I ask angrily, happy for a reason to fight with him.

"I don't know," he says. "I'm sorry." He leans over to kiss me, but I push him away.

"What have I told you about my views on public displays of affection?"

"I've forgotten, remind me?"

"I find it degrading and annoying. We are no exception; in fact, I would feel worse if it were us."

"I'm really sorry, babe."

"That's what you said the last five times."

"Cora, let's not make a scene."

"Okay, how about a whole Broadway production? Will that make you happy?"

"No."

"Then never attempt to kiss me in public again."

That table falls silent again, I assume because of what I just said. Then I hear a cough and turn to see Nick Jonas standing over me.

"I was wondering if I could have a dance," he asks, taking my hand in his.

"I don't dance," I reply haughtily. He nods, drops my hand and I feel a piece of paper in it. I see him walk to the exit before I open the note. It says:

**Thanks for letting me know. You helped me:**

**I****'****ll help you. I****'****m leaving in 20 minutes.**

"Excuse me," I say, standing up. I move over to where the bathrooms are and notice Rebecca on the floor. Tired of being someone else, I sit down next to her.

"Why?" I ask. "You had one of the hottest guys in the world and you cheated on him."

"I know," she sighs. "I thought maybe I could make him jealous by cheating on him. He barely talked to me all week, you know? He was always with his guitar, not me. I bet you he sleeps with it. He's so attached to it."

"Well, duh," I say. "He's a musician. His first passion is music because music will never do what you did. Did you ever stop to think about that?"

"No," she said. "It's just as well, though. Now we can both be happy and find someone who will love us the way we want them to."

"Yeah. Mike's free. Take him."

"Aren't you dating him?"

"Not for long. He'll be free by the end of the night."

"Why? You two are perfect for each other. You're like clones you're so compatible."

"There's a funny story there, ask Mike about it. I've got to go. Nice meeting you." I scribble a message down on the paper then stand up. Rebecca waves with a small smile.

"You're going after Nick, aren't you?" she says.

"What would give you that idea?" I ask. "I hate him, remember?"

"Yeah, huh. I can't wait to hear this funny story."

I walk away feeling like some sort of secret agent for the CIA. Maybe from all the 'covert' work I've done tonight, but I don't know.

I sit back down next to Mike and tap his thigh so he looks down at the note. It says:

_**Whisper in my ear.**_

"What's up?" he asks. I put on a semi-confused look.

"We need to go someplace private?" I whisper back.

"Okay."

"Now."

"We'll be right back," Mike announces to the table. We walk over towards the coat room. "What's going on?" he asks.

"Break up with me," I order.


	3. The Perfect Friday Night

**I'm getting better at this…**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own iPods (they belong to Apple) , or **_**The Walk/ Fire on the Mountain by Hanson **_**Hotel California by the Eagles, Crazy Love by Poco, and, finally, Hero by Enrique Iglesias.**

***Nick***

I've been out here for twenty-three minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

I know this because I keep looking at my watch every three seconds while I wait for Cora to come out.

Twenty-three minutes and forty-one seconds.

_If she's not out in nineteen seconds, I'm out of here._

Twenty-three minutes and forty-four seconds.

I start thinking about Rebecca. I had followed Cora's instructions (of course) and gone to the bathroom hallway. After about a half-a-second of watching some guy suck her face off, I cleared my throat and he disappeared. Rebecca had just stared at me.

"You knew didn't you?" she had asked. I had nodded. "I just wanted to see if you cared enough," she had said.

"You wanted to see if I cared?" I repeat. "Well, how does making out with random guys at prom help show how much _I_ care? It shows how little you care."

"I guess it just wasn't meant to be," she had said plainly and maturely. I had nodded then passed her the CD.

"I didn't want to ruin your prom," I had said. "I did keep my promise though."

Rebecca had taken the CD, smiled, and then hugged me. It had surprised me that she was reacting as she had. It was like something out of a movie.

"Take care of yourself," she had whispered in my ear with a final kiss on the cheek. It definitely felt like a movie at that point. I had walked away with one last, melodramatic look over my shoulder to complete the scene.

My last look of Rebecca was of her sitting on the floor with a half-grin on her face, staring at me. She had waved slightly, almost a salute. I had felt no anger, no sadness, no joy, and no confusion. We had been and we had finished.

Twenty-four minutes and fifteen seconds.

"That's it," I say quietly. I reach for the keys and start the engine, yank the gear shift into reverse and back out of the space. Then I drive out of the parking lot, leaving Cora Royce out of sight and out of mind.

Somehow it actually happens like this: I pull the keys out of the ignition, climb out of the car and head back towards the hall.

"Hey," someone says when I put my hand out to open the door. I turn and see Cora standing to the side.

"I've been waiting here for eight minutes and seventeen seconds," she says. "I thought you'd bailed on me."

"Why didn't you come out to my car?" I ask.

"Maybe because I don't know which car is yours?" she replies.

"Oh," I reply. "Right. Well, let's go."

I offer her my arm as we start down the small staircase.

"What's with girls and those ridiculous heels?" I ask, looking down at her feet.

"I'm five-three on a good day," she replies. "If I want to compare, in any way, to any other girl in there: I've got to wear four inch heels. Even though they hurt like hell. Hang on." We stop and she pulls off her shoes with a sigh of relief. I swear she shrunk a foot.

We reach the car and I hold the door open for her.

"By the way," she says, as I sit behind the wheel, "my friend Rose knows I'm getting a ride with you. So no funny business. If I'm not home by midnight, you'll be in some deep water."

"That's a load of crap," I say, taking off my bow tie and putting it in the cup holder. "This is suffocating me." I unbutton the collar and remove the studs.

"Thanks for that show," Cora says, turning away and shielding her eyes.

"What show?" I ask, sliding out of my jacket and vest and throwing them in the backseat.

"Oh, I thought those were…I assumed…okay," she replies, blushing a little as I removed my cuff links.

"Oh, you thought…you assumed…okay," I say, trying to clarify her sentence. I think it came out more as mocking her by accident.

"Yeah," she says, nodding. We sit in silence for a second.

"So, where to?" I ask, gripping the steering wheel.

"Boston," she replies.

"Whew, so far?" I ask, starting the car. "I'm not sure I can get you there and back in time if we go."

"That's actually where I live," she explains. "I thought you were driving me home so I could tell my parents that I had the third worst Friday night of my life. And it's only quarter of nine!"

"Third worst?" I ask, pulling out my iTouch and hitting the GPS application. "That is a life that really needs help."

"Wow, you're so nice," she says sarcastically as I hit a few buttons.

"I know," I reply, plugging my iPod into the car charger. "Can I borrow your shawl?"

"I'm not sure it will match your outfit," she says, giving it to me, and I have to smile.

"Lean forward," I instruct. She gives me a look as I fold her shawl, but leans forward anyways. I wrap it around her eyes like a blind fold.

"What the hell?" she asks, reaching up to untie it.

"Don't touch it unless you want hand restraints," I order and she sits still. "Don't take it off until I tell you to.

"I trusted you," she whispers.

"It's not like I'm kidnapping you. Gheesh! You try to do something nice and think you're doing something illegal."

"Where are we going then?" she asks.

"to give you the best Friday night ever," I reply.

"Stay away from Tai Chi Centers, and Brookline, and dances, and cafés…just stay away from civilization!"

"Okay, while I drive, you're telling me about these Friday nights of yours.

I'm already following all her restrictions, FYI.

***Cora***

I'm totally freaking out right now.

Like I said earlier, I've had a _huge_ crush on Nick since I was in eighth grade. That's two years. Epic for a teenage girl. I also have no clue where we're going and that's not cool. At all.

"Okay," Nick says, parking. "Give me one minute."

I hear him moving a lot next to me. His arm brushes up against mine.

_Oh my God! That's his skin! Is his shirt _actually_ off? I can't breathe!_

"Whew, better," he expresses. I hear him get out of the car. A second later he's opening the door for me and pulling me out.

The night air hits me. I take a deep breath and know _exactly_ where we are.

"Oh, wow," I say as Nick gets something out of the trunk. "You're pretty corny."

"You don't even know where we are," he says, taking my hand again.

"I definitely do," I reply. "Turn around. You look, you die."

Just for full privacy, I turn to the car and expertly remove my nylons without showing very much skin. I shove them in my purse before turning around.

"Okay," I announce, "you may now lead me down the ramp to the beach, where we will sit under the stars while we get to know each other better by playing Truth and singing along to your guitar.

Nick is silent for a second.

"How did you know that?" he asks, pulling me along.

"It's a secret," I reply. After about thirty seconds, he stops and removes the blindfold. I can't breathe again because he's standing right in front of me and I don't know for sure what happened in the car.

When he's finally visible, he _is_ wearing a shirt, to my relief and dismay, but not the one to his tux. It's just a plain old white button down with the sleeves rolled up. His guitar case is in the sand next to him.

I notice him staring at me in a way I've never seen anyone stare at me.

"What's wrong?" I ask quietly.

"You're beautiful," he says. "Your eyes are intense. They're so deep, so hypnotizing. They're gorgeous."

There is a _huge_ knot in my chest. I am, literally, gasping for air as I stare back into his eyes. _He_ thinks _I'm_ beautiful? _He_ says _my_ eyes are gorgeous?

"I need to sit," I announce, ruining the moment. I'm suddenly chilled and wrap my shawl around my shoulders.

"Are you cold?" Nick asks. "Hold on."

He runs off to the car. I twirl a littler then sit with a _puff_ of my dress. Nick places his jacket around my shoulders once I'm on the ground and sits cross-legged in front of me.

"What shall I play?" he asks, pulling out his guitar.

"Anything," I reply.

"Okay, there's this one I like to play that I learned back in '08. Actually, it belongs to another brothers' band. Maybe you've heard of them? Hanson?"

"Something from _The Walk_?" I ask. He looks at me. "Oh, I'm their biggest fan under the age of twenty-five, which is saying very little, if anything at all."

"Fire on the Mountain?" he tells me.

"Love it."

He plays that song. Then he follows with Hotel California by the Eagles, Crazy Love by Poco, and, finally, Hero by Enrique Iglesias.

"You're very good," I say as he puts his guitar away. "Anyone would think you're a professional."

"Weird, isn't it?" Nick replies. "Truth, now, yes? Selena got me to play this with every girl I meet. First question goes to me: How did you know everything?"

I laugh.

"I could smell the ocean when we got out of the car," I say. "I heard your guitar hit the side of the case when you pulled it out of the trunk. And I was hoping the Jedi mind trick would help with the Truth part."

"Wow," he remarks. "Impressive."

We ask pretty easy questions for a few minute (e.g. favorite color, what we think of our parents, etc.). Then we get into the heavy-duty stuff.

"What is your greatest fear?" I ask.

"Snakes. They creep me out," he replies.

"They're the devil. They should scare you."

"A religious girl. Nice. What's the grossest thing that ever happened to you?"

"I sat down on some ketchup when I was wearing a white skirt."

"That's not gross."

"It is to me. What do you worry about most?"

"The future. I don't know where the band's going. Where I'm going. Who's going to be there. It's just a mystery."

"Interesting."

"If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?"

"My ability to understand Algebra. I just don't get it."

"So I'm obviously the brains in this relationship."

"Only when math is involved. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

"Wherever the girl I love is."

"Deep."

"What is your deepest secret?"

"I smoked a cigarette the first day of school."

"Rebellious."

"What's the one thing you'd do if you could do anything?"

"Pass."

"Seriously? You're just going to end it now?"

"Yep. Just answer the next question and you win."

"Bring it."

"What would you do if I kissed you right now?"

Before I can choke out a "what", Nick leans forward and his lips touch mine. I wait to wake up. When I don't, I want reality to last forever.


	4. We're Just Friends?

**DISCLAIMERS: I don't own the quote from 'Romeo and Juliet'. It belongs to Mr. William Shakespeare, may he rest in peace. I also do not own Marilla or Anne (Lucy Maud Montgomery **_**Anne of Green Gables**_**), iPods, 'When You Look Me in the Eyes' by the Jonas Brothers, or 'The Princess Bride'.**

***Nick***

I think I screwed up.

Cora hasn't said a word to me since I kissed her. It's frightening because I've never done something like that before. Something just kind of came over me and I wasn't sure if I'd ever have another chance...so I kissed her.

And I screwed up.

We're in the car now because she has a midnight curfew (that's why she told me I'd be in deep water even though Rose was in no way involved). We spent about and hour on the beach and it's about an hour to her house from there. We're ten miles from Boston and she still hasn't said a word.

Man, I _really_ screwed up.

"I just had my _first_ kiss," Cora whispers. "I _just_ had my first kiss. _I_ just had my first kiss. I just had my first _kiss_." The look on her face when I glance over is one of complete shock as she repeats the phrase as if trying to make it fit. Make it real.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

"_You_ just kissed me," she replies. "You, a _boy_. You, an _older_ boy. You, an older boy that just broke up with his _girlfriend_ two hours ago. And then you kissed me. You kissed me. My first kiss." She keeps repeating phrases and I'm not sure if it's for dramatic effect or to make things clearer for herself.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, attempting to sound nonchalant, but I think it sounds desperate.

"You bounce back fast," she says plainly. "You and Rebecca weren't done for more than an hour and you kissed me. You kissed me. On the beach. Under the stars. My first kiss."

"So, was that your first kiss or something?" I ask facetiously.

"Okay, from my perspective this is _**huge**_. My first _date_ was tonight. With Mike. _That wasn't even real!_ Then you waltz into my life all smooth with car and your guitar and you steal me away and you kiss me the way I've always wanted to be kissed. And _how_ you did it! You give marble a run for its money, you're so smooth! I mean, the question? Then the whole 'I don't care, I'll just kiss you' thing. Oh my God! I never expected anything like that to happen to me. _**EVER!**_" She starts sniffling and I shoot her a look.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" I exclaim, pulling into a motorist station and parking. I put my arms around her in a hug. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replies. "I'm fine. Why would something be wrong?" She pushes me away softly and smiles.

"You're crying," I inform her.

"Oh," she says, tears still pouring. "Sorry, my contacts are dry; I've been wearing them all day. Tears make them less uncomfortable."

"You sure?" I ask. "This has nothing to do with me kissing you?"

"No. I mean, I'm happy, yeah. But I'm not going to cry about it. I don't do the 'happy crying' thing unless I'm laughing."

She's happy? I didn't screw up?

Awesome.

I start driving again and we're both quiet for a bit. Cora clears her throat.

"So, are we…I mean, are you and I…would you consider us, like…a _couple_ or something?" she asks. "I mean after the…you…we…the thing that happened way back there that I've been obsessing over and now I can't get the words out about…after that are we…you know…_dating_? Or something? Or are we just friends that had a tragic 'accident'?"

"You're so awkward, it's cute," I say with a smile. But she's right. What are we? "You decide. I don't want to pressure you into a relationship you don't want."

"Ooooh, I want the relationship. That's not the problem here."

"So, we're dating."

"Well…."

"Well…what?"

"Well, we met, what, two hours ago? Maybe we should wait a month to become _real_ friends. You know, so we don't rush anything. That way if we break up we can at least have a friendship to go back to. Hopefully."

"That sounds very logical."

"Well someone has to be rational, Romeo."

"And that's _you_, Juliet?"

"That's my role. 'Oh swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest thy love prove likewise variable'."

"Impressive, Juliet," I say, driving down a very wooded road. "Okay, a month."

"So, do you always carry around a guitar incase of instances like this?"

"No. I had that impromptu tour and the last concert was today. I went right to pick this car up after the last concert. Then I had to pick up my tux, after which I was stuck in the middle of rush hour traffic. I was late to pick up Becca and I just left all my stuff in the trunk, figuring I could just drop it off later when I go back." I stop at a traffic light and it hits me. "Shoot! I can't stay at Becca's tonight!"

"Hey, Mom," I hear Cora say. I throw her a glance and see a phone pressed to her ear. "I'm ten minutes away….A friend of mine's driving me home. He needs a place to stay…He's not that kind of a guy, Mom…Mom, mom, mom, MA! Can you listen for, like, five seconds...Ma, it's _Nick Jonas_….Okay, see you soon." She hangs up. "You're covered."

"Are you sure?" I ask. "I don't want to impose."

"I insist," she says firmly. "Besides, you'll be sharing a room with Aiden. It's more like we're imposing on you." I laugh as I turn onto her street.

"Oh, crap, pull over," she orders. I park on the side of the road and give her a confused look. "You _have_ to put your tux back on."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because we were at prom and if you walk in wearing anything, but your prom attire, my parents will know we skipped it. If they find that out: .Dead."

"So you're just going to lie to them?"

"Let's not call it lying. Let's call it…modernism. They only get part of the picture: not the whole thing."

"And that's modernism?"

"Don't doubt my history teacher."

I bite my lip and climb into the backseat. I understand where Cora's coming from, but I still don't like the thought of lying to her parents.

***Cora***

Nick hates me.

We're standing in my living room, posing for my parents. They keep calling him my prom date and are snapping a million photos so they can document my first boyfriend.

No. Not boyfriend. Friend. We're just friends. Friends that kiss on the beach under the stars. That stare into each other's eyes and softly whisper 'you're beautiful' then lean into each other. Of course, he's the sort the friend that would save another friend from an evening of hell. And give her the best night ever. And lend his suit jacket to her. And kiss her.

It all leads back to that.

We need a new name.

"Don't you need to drive to New York tomorrow, Dad?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says, "but I can stay up and take pictures of my daughter and her boyfriend."

"Friend," Nick and I insist together. This is the fifth time he's done that.

"Uh-huh," he says, snapping another picture.

"Why don't we all go to bed?" Mom suggests.

Dad nods then heads upstairs. When he's out of earshot, I beckon my mother towards me.

"What's up?" she asks.

"Mom," I say, "Nick and I didn't stay for the whole prom. We left at quarter-to-nine. It was just horrible. He was having trouble with his girlfriend and I had to be someone I'm not. So he saved me and we've just been kind of chilling."

Now, the last picture we had taken was the typical prom picture: Nick stood behind me and put his arms around my waist and I had placed my hands on top of his. When my mother had come over, our hands had fallen behind my skirt. When I tell Mom the truth, Nick squeezes my hand as if to say 'I'm proud of you'.

"We'll discuss this later," Mom says, her happiness disappearing.

"We can discuss this now," Nick says. Now _I'm_ the one squeezing _his_ hand. "Your daughter was forced to sit there, pretending to be a nerd, a debater, a friendless loser and a dozen other things she's not and you're saying-."

"I'm not upset because of that," Mom interrupts. "I am upset that you two have been off who knows where, doing who knows what.'

"_ Beach," Nick says immediately. "Playing Truth and singing songs."

"Why did you go there?" she asks, tuning on me.

"It was a surprise for Cora. The whole ordeal is on me."

Mom keeps staring at me, as if telling me to tell the truth, which Nick just did.

"Marilla," I say, "Anne's telling the truth."

"I can't deal with this tonight," Mom says. "We'll discuss this in further detail tomorrow. Goodnight. By the way, the water heater's fixed."

"Great," I say.

So here I am, alone with Nick in my living room. He lets go of my hand and I turn to face him. Then I hug him.

"Next time," he says, "we go with your plan."

"You can't leave for a month," I say, "or she'll kill me." We laugh and stop hugging.

"So did you have fun tonight?" he asks.

"With one exception," I reply. He looks at me. "I never got a dance."

Nick holds up his index finger and pulls out his iPod. He taps a few buttons then 'When You Look Me in the Eyes' starts playing and he takes my hand.

"Your own song?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"Only slow song I own," he replies. "And it kind of fits."

"That didn't happen," I correct.

"No," he argues sweetly, "the kiss never happened. Your beauty did."

"Please stop," I say, blushing. "Compliments embarrass me."

"Why?"

"I don't think I'm worthy. I mean, compared to someone as," he spins me out, "talented, handsome, brilliant and creative as you," he spins me in, "I'm crap."

"Don't compliment me," he whispers in my ear. "It embarrasses me."

We dance around the living room and I realize just how stupid I am. I had the choice to make us more than friends and I blew it. A month? What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I have to be 'rational'? Why couldn't I just jump into a relationship with Nick?

Because I like him too much. I know I just met Nick, but he's still amazing. Three hours can really make a difference in your life.

"Is your night perfect now?" Nick asks as the song ends.

"Yes," I reply. "Thank you."

"You're so polite. I like it," he says, pressing his forehead against mine. I start to tilt my head off.

Whoa! Whoa! WHOA! *Siren sound* Earth to Cora! It hasn't been a month yet.

"Um, yeah," I say, backing up. "Thanks. Again. For. Everything. I'm. Going. To. Go. And. Change. Into. My. Pajamas. And. You….I'll. See. You. In. The. Morning."

Before I move even two feet, my face and neck are rose. By the time I reach the top of the stairs, I'm fuchsia. When I look in the mirror: I'm so red I could make a fire truck look pale. I'm such a spaz! Nick's probably down there thinking about what a freak I am.

"Um, Cora?" Nick says, appearing at the door with a duffel bag. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I reply. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" he asks. "You kind of freaked down there." He moves his foot to take the deadly step over the threshold.

"Don't," I say, pushing him into the hallway. "You _cannot_ put your little toe in this room. Alarms will go off lasers will appear and a very angry middle-aged man will come charging out of that room." I point to my parents' room and Nick smiles.

"Strict no boys rules?" he asks. I nod. "Okay." He leans against the door frame. "So what happened down there?"

"Um," I say. "Panic attack." He looks at me. "Seizure." He raises his eyebrows. "I-almost-kissed-you-and-that-would-be-a-stupid-move attack?" He laughs for a second then freezes and looks at me.

"Did you just say-?" he starts, standing up.

"Yes!" I reply, leaning against the opposite side of the door frame. "But it hasn't been a month, so I didn't. I really don't want to mess this up, Nick. It'll give you time to get over Rebecca and me time to get used to the fact that…well, I know you. Sorry, but that's a bit of a shock that I need to get over."

"Why's it suck a shock?" he asks. "Matt Steal is just a regular guy." I laugh. "Okay. No problems. Goodnight." He leans forward then stops and kind of awkwardly pats my head. "Where is the little boy scout's room, by the way?" he asks. I point down the hall and he nods.

I close my door, put on my glasses and my most comfortable pajamas. Then I pull 'The Princess Bride' out of my secret DVD stash and sneak downstairs and slide it into the DVD player.

"Just as I'm about to lie down on the couch, someone starts creeping down the stairs. I jump up and grab my guitar, holding it menacingly above my head.

"Put the guitar down," Nick orders calmly.

"Oh, it's just you," I say, relaxing.

"Who did you think it was?" he asks, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

"An ax murderer," I reply, placing the guitar against the piano. "Pity, I thought I'd actually found a use for this."

"Do you play?" he asks.

"I can play and open chord E."

"Whoa! That's some major talent there.

"I know. Be jealous." I plop down on the couch and hit play.

"You are now lying on my bed, I hope you know," Nick informs me. "Aiden has a wall of boxes in my way."

"Oh, shoot," I say as the title flashes. "Okay, I'll go upstairs and watch this."

"Wait, 'The Princess Bride'?" he asks. I nod. "Oh, no. This movie doesn't leave. Lean forward."

I sit up and he lies on an angle in the place I vacated. I scoot towards the cushions more and he swings his legs up. Nick then puts his arm around my waist and pulls me back so my head is resting on his chest.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Uh-huh," I reply, my thoughts fuzzy.

Is it okay? I sit the same way with Lynne all the time. But that's Lynne, by best friend, and a girl. Nick is a _boy_ I just met. Should this be okay? No, but I'm cool with it. Hell, I'm sixteen. I could give a damn.

About the time that Buttercup pushes [Westley] into the ravine, a chill settles over the house. I pull the blanket off the back of the couch and lay it across us. It's amazingly warm and magically makes you go to sleep within five minutes after you lie down under it. Sure enough, when the ROUS attacks, my eyes start to flutter closed.

About an hour later, Nick moves and I wake up a little.

"Don't leave," I command groggily, sure he'll disappear forever. I grip his arm tightly, keeping him from going, assuring myself that I won't lose him. I feel safer and start to return to full sleep.

"As you wish," Nick whispers as I drift off again.

I'm so glad we're 'friends'.


	5. The List

**Good news: The story's finally finished so I'll be posting more regularly. Bad news: This is going to be a HUGE story. Be prepared.**

**DISCLAIMERS (Yeah, there's a lot for this one): I don't own 'I'll Make a Man Out of You' from Mulan, 'Today Was a Fairytale' by Taylor Swift, Disney, or All Star by Smash Mouth**

***Nick***

I love waking up at five the day after prom.

I'm completely serious. I'm so happy I do.

Why?

I'm still on the couch.

With Cora.

She's clutching my arm like it's a life preserver and she is on the Titanic. I try to slide away from her without waking her up, but she stirs anyways. I'm not sure if it's what I did or the sound of a phone vibrating on the coffee table.

"Morning," she grumbles, sitting up and stretching her arms above her head.

"Morning," I return.

"What time is it?" she asks.

"Ten past five," I reply, looking at my watch.

"Okay, time to get up." Cora stands and then, literally, bends over backwards.

"Are you trying to impress me or something?" I ask.

"Is it working?" she asks, raising one hand to her stomach then placing it back down and repeating with the opposite hand.

"Yeah, actually," I reply.

"Good, but no it's not to impress you. I have back and shoulder problems, this makes them better."

"What are you, eighty?"

"No. Fifty." She stands up. "Okay, I'll be back in an hour or two."

"Where are you going?"

"Every Saturday I go jogging. I've only been doing it three weeks, but the results have been great so far."

"You're not one of those girls that's obsessed with losing weight, are you?"

"Well, yes and no. I do want to lose weight, but this has nothing to do with it. I'm planning on running the Boston Marathon next year. Jogging gets me ready for running."

"Cool, where are we running?"

"You're coming now?"

"Why not?"

"Well there's this hiking trail up the road a piece. It's more of a wooded walkway than an actual trail."

"Let's go!" I stand up.

"Um, Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"Real pants."

I look down and see, as if for the first time, my Mickey Mouse pajama bottoms. Yeah, just the kind of pants you want to wear around a girl.

"Right. Be right back."

I go upstairs and throw on a pair of shorts I happen to have and my sneakers.

"Ready," I announce, walking into the kitchen where Cora is standing in short-shorts and a tank top. "Well, good morning, Richard Simmons," I say. "Will we be sweating to the oldies this morning?"

"Wait," she says, opening a drawer. She pulls out a tube of glitter and sprinkles some on herself. "I can't just add sequins to this."

"Does he wear sequins?" I ask.

"I'm pretty sure he does. I think he had sequins on the video I watched."

"I'll take your word for it."

Cora leads me out of the house without another word. I pull out my keys, closing the door behind her.

"We can walk. It's, like, five minutes away."

"I'm driving to wherever. Where to?"

"Just down the street."

We climb into my car and arrive two seconds later.

"So why are you running the marathon?" I ask as we stretch.

"It's on my list of things to do before I graduate," she replies.

"Cool," I say. "What kind of stuff is on it?"

"Just random stuff. Wear a miniskirt, go to Bermuda, wear a bikini, take the National Latin Exam, have a chariot race, lose my virginity…"

"What was that last one?"

"I'm kidding. I'm really against that kind of thing." She flashes me her left hand and I notice that she's wearing a purity ring. I nod my head. A religious girl's the kind you want to bring home to Mom. Well, my mom at least.

"Nice," I say. "So are we just going to stand here or are we going to move?"

"You're the one asking questions," she points out.

"You're lying again," I remind her.

"It's not my fault you're gullible." I open my mouth to reply and she just takes off towards the trail, winning the battle.

I follow her, trusting her for no apparent reason.

***Cora***

I firmly believe that life should have a soundtrack.

There are just so many things that need music. I've started playing music in my head whenever needed. Like when I'm jogging. I play 'I'll Make a Man Out of You' from Mulan. It just has that training feeling. Plus it's fun.

Today, though, I'm playing 'Today Was a Fairytale' by Taylor Swift because it completely fits right now. Last night _was_ a fairytale. I mean, Little Miss No One goes off to the ball and meets Prince Charming? My life is a Disney movie!

"So," Nick says, "about last night…"

"Um, can we not mention that to anyone, just keep it our secret? Forever?" I ask.

"I figured you'd say that," he replies, a smile spreading across his face. "We can if you tell me why you clung to me like I was your only hope for survival."

"You moved and I woke up a little bit. I thought you were going to disappear forever, so I held onto you to make you stay."

"That's so sad. Stop." We stop and he hugs me. "I'm right here. I won't go anywhere, I promise."

"That's sweet, but I didn't know that at two-thirty this morning."

"I promise I'll remind you anytime you forget, tomato." He lets go of me and we start jogging again. I know why he called me a tomato; I'm completely red in the face.

"Shut-up, you…you…eggplant!"

"I'm purple?"

"No, it just sounded insulting."

"I'm not insulted."

"That's insulting."

Nick smiles again and I feel proud that I've made him smile twice in the past five minutes.

That's when I hear the noise.

I slow to a stop an throw my arm out to stop Nick. There's rustling all around us. I can't breathe for a minute.

Two feet in front of us, a stag emerges and lopes across the path. I calm down immediately and look around for his family. When nothing else appears, Nick steps in front of me.

"Are you going to stand there or are you going to move?" he asks.

"We're about to hit the mile marker," I say, looking up at the sky as an ominous rumble of thunder sounds.

"What, are you afraid of a little rain?" he asks.

"Dude, this is a thunderstorm danger hotbed. There are trees, a meadow up there, water all around. We'll die if we stay here."

"Race you to the meadow," he says, taking off before I can protest. I sigh then sprint and catch up with him in a matter of seconds.

What Nick doesn't know is that he's been doopped. The meadow is off to the side, only someone that's been there before can know where it is.

"You cheated," Nick argues when I pull off to the side and claim victory.

"Loser," I reply plainly, making a sign at him.

"'Well she was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb in the shape of an L on her forehead'," he quotes.

"Your feet better 'hit the ground running'," I say as I feel a raindrop on me. There's suddenly the sound of hundreds of drops hitting everything around us. We turn and run up the trail as quickly as possible.

We both run out of steam about a half-a-mile back from the car. We grip our knees and take deep, panting breaths. The sky opens up just as we stand. Now is the perfect time for me to do number one on my list.

I want to.

I shouldn't.

But I do.


	6. Scene: Night Out And Action!

**DISCLAIMERS: I do not own Dante's Inferno, Boston Latin, Chuck Taylor Converse (abbreviated as 'Chucks'), the Red Sox, the Yankees, 'I Won't Say I'm in Love' from Hercules, or Disney**

***Nick***

Uhmmmm.

No comment?

Cora and I have been sitting in my car watching the rain for eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

Yes, I started counting again. I'm going crazy here!

"So," I say, breaking the silence. "Um. That was…um…that was…what was that?"

"There are so many things to call it," Cora replies, not looking at me.

"And a few examples are?" I ask, trying to continue the conversation.

"A mistake," she responds, "stupid, impulsive, spontaneous, weird, number one, beautiful, amazing, perfect? Any of those sound right?"

"Number one?" I ask.

"The triple start to my list: kiss in the rain, kiss in the snow, kiss on the beach during sunset."

"Lots of kissing: got a boyfriend?"

"Number four."

"Glad to know you've got your priorities straight."

She grins, but doesn't look at me. After one minute and seventeen seconds, I drum my hands on the steering wheel to get her attention.

"We're forgetting this, I presume?" I ask. "For the next four weeks at least?"

"I don't know," she responds. "This is almost the third time this has happened. Something's got to give."

"What do you suggest?"

"We cut the time in half. Two weeks, not four."

"Okay. Two weeks it is." I start the car and back out of the parking spot.

When we get back to Cora's house, I jump into the shower and let the hot water rush over me as I thank God for water heaters.

As I step out of the bathroom, fully dressed, hair wet, I'm greeted by a song I don't recognize being played very loudly. I make my way to Cora's room to see if she can turn down the volume a smidge, but I find the room empty.

Now I _could_ go through all her stuff and discover her deepest secrets. I _could_ find her diary and learn her life story. I _could_ find an embarrassing picture of her and use it for blackmail. I_ could_ do a lot of things.

But since I don't have a lookout that would be stupid.

All I do is go up to the stereo and turn it off. My eyes swerve to the door as I leave. I stop, noticing an interesting sign with something written in a foreign language.

"What are you doing?"

I jump out of my skin and whip my head around to see Cora leaning against the doorframe.

"I just came in to turn off your stereo," I defend.

"Oh, so you didn't like the music?" she says.

"No, I like the music," I reply. "I just didn't like the volume."

"Ah," she says. "And you're still in my room…why?"

"I noticed your sign."

"Ah, my sign. I'm so proud of it."

"What does it say?"

"_Lasciate ogne speranza voi ch'intrate. __Per me si va ne la citta dolente. Per me si va ne l'etterno dolore. Per me si va tra la perduta gente._"

"Lovely."

"It's from Dante's Inferno. Dante reads that, then Vergil says, '_Qui si convien lasciare ogne sospetto, ogne vilta convien che qui sia morta...tu verdrai le gente dolorose c'hanno perduto il ben de l'intelletto_'."

"Cora, that sounds beautiful. What does it mean?"

"It's what is written on the gates of hell according to Dante. 'Abandon all hope you who enter here. Through me you enter the city of pain. Through me you enter eternal suffering. Through me you enter the population of the lost'."

"And Vergil said?"

"'All fear must be left here, and cowardice die.' I'm not a big fan of the next part so I skip right to 'Here you will behold the wretched souls that have lost the good of intellect'. Powerful words right there."

I look around myself. Cora's room is lime green. Her bed sheets are pink. There's a picture of me in the corner and a huge basket of magazines. Then there's the sign, the non-mainstream music playing, a desk cluttered with notebooks and papers in Cora's handwriting, several candles flickering on the bureau, and several other sheets of paper with phrases in different languages, mostly accompanied by a skull and cross bones on the walls.

"What are you?" I ask bluntly, a little confused.

"In what sense?"

"Meaning?"

"Well, in China: I'm a vampire. In school: I'm the odd one out. To my friends: I'm their eccentric writer friend. In here: I'm me."

"And you are?"

"One of a kind."

"Full of yourself."

"Sorry, that's what my id and superego came up with."

"What and what?"

"Id and superego? Freud? Three parts of the brain?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Does this have something to do with the Chinese thinking you're a vampire?"

"I go to Boston Latin and last year we had some problems with vampires and it reached China and the UK and several other countries."

"Isn't that some kind of really old nerd school here in Boston?"

"It is more than just a nerd school. Four signers of the Declaration of Independence, Paul Revere, Charles Bulfinch, and many other famous people attended that school."

"So it's an _important_ nerd school?"

"Exactly."

"Ehhh. Rebbecca goes to a nerd school."

"Believe me, we're on a completely different level of nerd. Something you'll see tonight."

"What's going on tonight?"

"My mom and Aiden have to be places and there's the 'no boys' rule. I just called my friend Lynne. Are you up for a night of high school style fun?"

Just me and two teenage, female fans for the night?

Help. Me.

***Cora***

My life is a movie.

"Come on, Nick!" I urge.

"No," he replies obstinately, muffled by the bathroom door.

"Rose and Lynne will be here any second!" I press.

"Now there are two of them?" he asks.

"Yes. Now hurry up and get out here!"

Nick opens the door and walks out wearing regular jeans, a pair of Chucks and a t-shirt. He's also wearing a blonde wig and a Red Sox cap on backwards.

"I feel stupid," he complains.

Honestly, he looks stupid. His pants are way past the attractive 'hanging low' point.

"That's because your pants are too low," I say." They should be right here." I put my hands by my pants pockets. He fixes them and I nod. He actually looks pretty good.

Really good.

Whoever dressed that guy is a genius. He looks extremely attractive. Yes, I am patting myself on the back.

"People are going to look at me," Nick moans.

"Here's what's going to happen: girls are going to walk by, take one look at your butt then keep walking."

"Only one?"

"Yeah. Girls don't outright stare. They're sneaky." He smiles for a second then frowns again.

"I'm wearing a Red Sox hat," he complains. "I _hate_the Red Sox."

"Deal with it: you're in New England," I reply.

"Cora, I'm a Yankees fan."

"And for that you are on my bad list. Suck it up. No one's going to recognize you if you're wearing a Sox hat. They're all expecting you to wear Yankees attire."

"The wig can't throw them off enough?"

"Nope. You're wearing the hat. Deal with it."

The doorbell rings and I answer it. Rose and Lynne are standing outside.

"Hey, you," Lynne says. I kiss her and Rose on both cheeks, as is customary with my friends and me. "Ready?" she asks.

"Yeah, just give Matt two seconds," I reply.

"Who's Matt?" Lynne asks.

"Cora!" I hear from the direction of the bathroom.

"Coming!" I reply, walking in that direction. "What?"

"I can't do this," Nick whispers. "They're going to recognize me. This is not going to work."

"Do you doubt my genius?" I ask. "_I_barely recognize you. There's no way anyone else does. This'llbe fun." I smile reassuringly. "Do you trust me?" I offer him my hand.

"I don't know why…," he replies, taking it.

Pull him over to where Rose and Lynne are standing.

"So, this is Matt Steal," I introduce. "And, these are Lynne Michaels and Rose Dawson."

"Nice to meet you," Nick says, shaking their hands in turn. I notice a slight glint in Rose's eye and grab his hand as if to say, 'mine'!

"What happened to two weeks?" he murmurs in my ear.

"Rose doesn't know about that and I don't like that look in her eyes. Plus if she starts flirting with you…that would be a disaster…in my world."

"Why?" He rearranges us so we look cute and couple-y.

"Remember how I said last night that I'm crap compared to some people? She is one of those people that I should not be compared to."

"I don't see what you're talking about."

"You're so sweet."

"I know."

Rose's eyes widen as I grin slightly. She looks from Nick to me and back again.

"Are you two a couple or something?" Lynne asks, pointing at us.

"Are we, Cor-cor?" Nick asks.

_Yes!_

"Kind of, sort of, not really, yes, no," I reply. She gives me a look. "I don't want to rush into things. I'm a little confused right now. I want to get finals and my grandparents' anniversary out of the way before I commit to anything."

*Song for my soundtrack* 'I Won't Say I'm in Love'-Hercules, because, well it kind of fits with Disney movie theme my life is following and I really am evading the phrase and everything that could lead to it (especially since I think I might be).

"Your grandparents' anniversary?" Nick asks.

"It's their fiftieth," I say. He whistles. "Uh-huh. They're having a party next Sunday and my parents are throwing it. It's about to be busy in the Royce household."

"So this is your last night of freedom?"

"Yeah."

"Let's get this party started!"

I love how energized he is. It's so amazing.

Maybe he's not such a bad actor after all.


	7. Masquerade

**DISCLAIMERS: I do not own the Red Sox, Borders, Open Arms by Journey, P.'s, **_**Twelfth Night**_** characters**

***Nick***

I am a sucker for love.

Aiden is about two sizes bigger than me so his pants feel awkward, regardless of my belt. I also want to rip the stupid Red Sox cap off my head.

But Cora is, of course, right. It is a brilliant disguise. Plus she wants me to wear it and I _really_ want to make her happy, so I'm just taking her advice and dealing with it.

I'm whipped and we're not even dating.

Yet.

"So, Matt, where are you from?" Lynne asks, opening the door to Au Bon Pain.

"New Hampshire," I reply.

"What school do you go to?" Rose questions.

"I'm home schooled," I reply.

"When did you two meet?" Lynne demands.

"Prom night," Cora and I reply together then laugh.

"You've only known each other a day?" Rose points out.

"We have?" Cora says, looking at me.

"Just about," I reply, nodding. "Weird, isn't it? It feels like such a long time ago."

"Yeah," she says. "Hard to believe this time yesterday I was 'dating' Mike."

"And I was with Rebecca."

"And we were on the beach."

"And we sang."

"Whoa," Lynne interrupts our reminiscing. "_You_ got _her_ to _sing_?"

"Yeah, is that hard?" I ask.

"For her to sing audibly, you would have to be totally alone," she replies. "Were you?" She glares at Cora.

"Lynne, cool it," Cora says. "José?"

"We're not going there," Lynne orders.

"Then don't go anywhere with us," she says. "You know me."

"So how did you two meet?" Rose begs.

"I was being a wall flower," I reply. "And Cora came over."

"And told him his girlfriend was cheating on him," she continued. "Then he rescued me from Mike and we just kind of hung out for the whole night. You know, got to know each other."

A song starts playing that Rose knows and she starts to sing along. Her voice seems familiar for some reason.

"Rose is a singer," Cora informs me quietly. "She's _really_ good. She _should_ be a professional. That music you heard this morning? That was her."

"So, is that code for 'get her a record deal'?" I whisper back.

"No, I wouldn't ask you to do that. I _couldn't_ ask you to do that," she says.

"Give me a sample of her music and I'll see what I can do."

"You don't have to do that, Nick."

"I know. I will anyways."

"You're so sweet."

"Are you two done being adorable yet?" Lynne asks.

"I haven't even started yet," I reply. "That would make you two third wheels."

"We're not really third wheels if there's two of us," Rose points out.

"And that's what makes it _extremely_ awkward," I reply.

"Your voice sounds familiar," Lynne says. "Why do I know your voice?"

My heart stops for a second. Could this be the give away?

"He sounds like Jake," Cora tells her. "I realized that last night."

"Yeah," Lynne replies. "So what now?"

"Borders," Cora volunteers.

"Kill me," Lynne groans. "We're not going to Borders. I hate bookstores."

"I love them," Rose, Cora and I argue.

"That's three-to-one," I point out.

"Fine," Lynne surrenders.

As we cross the center section of the mall 'Open Arms' by Journey starts to play. Cora grabs my hand and twirls.

"Dance with me?" she begs, handing Lynne her tea.

"I thought you didn't dance?" I ask, giving Rose my coffee and placing my hand on Cora's waist. "Or is that yet another lie?"

"I was in character last night," she replies. "I love dancing, as you can tell by the fact that I was extremely upset that I didn't get a prom dance last night."

"Yes you did," I remind her. "People are starting to stare."

"Don't worry: it's not because of your pants."

"Thank God. The last thing I'd want to do is embarrass you like that."

"They think it's sweet."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, now press your forehead against mine and throw on a cute face."

"All my faces are cute."

"Ew, not that one."

My mouth drops open.

"Psych," she says.

"Wow, you're so nineties. I'm going to spin you now." I spin her.

"Nice."

"Thank you."

"You know, maybe we should cut back a little more on our…'friend time'."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, how long does it take to become friends with some one? We're friends now. Why don't we just make it a week?"

"At this rate it'll be an hour by tomorrow morning."

"Maybe that's what it's meant to be."

"You're so corny."

"I'm writer/actress: it's my life!"

"Ha ha ha. Hey- what's everyone saying?"

I open my ears to the world and hear the small crowd around us chanting 'Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!'.

"Third time's the charm I guess," I say.

"Yeah," Cora replies. Her eyes dim a little and she turns white. Her arms fall limp at her sides and she seems weak.

I feel Cora teeter for a second then she faints into me.

***Cora***

I hate guilt.

Guilt just sucks.

It's worse than any other punishment invented.

Nick is burying me in guilt right now. He told the crowd that I'd had a long week of studying and that I was just exhausted. Then he brought me home and he, Rose and Lynne laid me on the couch. Then, when I woke up five minutes ago, he was sitting on the floor waiting for me to wake up.

"We didn't call your parents," Nick had explained. "And we don't have to because when you feel strong enough we'll go back out. Lynne and Rose want to know why you fainted, but I told them that's your business and we don't need to pry."

Guilt galore!

Now, he's just sitting there with a cup of coffee. Sitting. Watching. Sipping. Waiting. Silent. Wondering…

"You want to know why I fainted," I observe.

"It's none of my business," he replies.

"That was a statement," I tell him, "not a question. I can read your mind."

"I am kind of worried…," he admits.

"I wanted to make sure that I could fit into my dress so I haven't eaten since Sunday.

"CORA BETHANY ROYCE!" Lynne yells, pounding into the room followed by Rose. "What the hell is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?"

"I just wanted to lose five pounds," I argued.

"I don't care. '.!"

A silence settles over us and I feel ashamed as Lynne stares me down.

"Okay, P. F. Chang's on me!" Nick announces, clapping his hands together and standing up. "Let's go."

Rose and Lynne give me a look.

"His family owns a business up in New Hampshire," I explain. "He's loaded."

Lynne and Rose nod, satisfied with the answer, and go to put on their shoes.

"For two honest people, we lie a lot," Nick observes.

"We're just actors," I reply. "We lie with a purpose. Except you only lie about insignificant things, like where you live and what you look like. It's not like you're an entirely different person because of this."

"Still bitter about what happened with Mike?"

"I'm Irish, I can hold a grudge."

"Isn't your mother Sicilian?"

"That's how I end the grudge."

"Do you watch a movie every night?" Nick asks as we make a fort out of pillows on the floor. Some things never change at sleepovers.

"Welcome to my summer," I reply, moving into the kitchen to make popcorn. "Well, a preview of it. I've still got a week of school left."

"Are you done with finals and stuff?" he asks as I place the bag in the microwave.

"No, I have two finals Monday and Tuesday and a project due Tuesday. Otherwise, I'm done. I could leave after third period on Monday and it wouldn't matter."

"So what're we watching this evening?"

"_We_ aren't watching anything. _You_ are going upstairs to Aiden's room and going to sleep. _I_ am being grilled by my best friends."

"Do they like me? I mean, do they approve?"

"They approved you two and a half years ago when I first became obsessed with the Jonas Brothers."

"But what do they think of Matt?"

"It doesn't matter what they think of Matt. My future boyfriend is Nick." I pour the popcorn into a bowl.

"Then why haven't we told them who I am?"

"Good question. Why didn't Cesario tell Orsino he was really Viola?"

"You make a good point, except that I am not a transvestite."

"You get the point."

"They'll have to know eventually. It's not like my life is a closed book or anything."

"I know. Just give me tonight to prepare them for the shock, okay?"

"Okay. Tomorrow morning, we're telling them, though."

"Agreed. Now say goodnight and go up to bed.

"But I don't want to go to bed."

"Stop whining and do as you're told."

"Geez, you're bossy!"

Nick leads the way towards the living room. I follow closely behind with the popcorn.

"Goodnight, ladies," he says. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Wait, you're _staying over_?" Rose asks incredulously. "What's wrong with your parents?"

"Matt's a special case," I reply, patting him on the shoulder. "Now march up to bed."

"Do I have to?" he moans.

"March."

"But—"

"March, mister."

Nick sticks out his tongue and runs up the stairs. My gaze follows him until he disappears into Aiden's room. Then I turn to two very confused teenagers.

"Are you his girlfriend or his mother?" Rose asks.

"Both," Nick yells from the top of the stairs.

"You, shut-up," I order. He half-grins and walks down the hall to the bathroom. "Neither."

"Matt's answer seems a little more honest," Lynne points out.

"Yeah," Rose continues. "You two seem pretty couple-y. What's going on there?"

"Nothing!" I reply.

"You wouldn't be _lying_, would you?" Lynne asks, circling around me. "You wouldn't hide something that big from us, would you?"

"No!" I insist. Rose pushes me onto the couch. Lynne turns out the lights then shines a flashlight in my face.

"Start talking," Rose says menacingly.

I hear the bathroom door open and Nick reappears at the top of the stairs. He nods as if to say, 'tell them'. I grin as he disappears into Aiden's room.

"Okay, okay," I say. "So, last night I went to Mike's house early because my water heater broke and I really needed a shower…"

***Nick***

Why am I up at four-thirty in the morning?

This is an un-Godly hour and Cora and I _exactly_ where we're supposed to be. So, _why_ am I up?

I get the weird feeling it has something to do with the hushed fight that I'm hearing from the living room. I can't make out what they're saying, but there are definitely two voices. I wonder who one of them is…

I quietly descend from the top bunk of Aiden's bunk bed. He lets rip a huge snore as my feet touch the floor just to reassure me that _he's_ still asleep.

"You need to sleep to get your energy back," I hear Lynne say.

"It's not even that strenuous," I hear Cora argue. "Come on, let's just go."

"No," Lynne says flatly. "You are _not_ climbing the Blue Hills in your condition."

Climb the Blue Hills after a week of starvation? I think Cora has gone legally insane.

"But—"

"Cora Royce," I say, "go back to sleep right now or, I swear, I will tie you down."

Her eyes widen and Lynne's mouth drops open. I reach up to my head and realize that I forgot to put the wig back on. Cora slaps her hand to Lynne's mouth before she can say a word.

"Yes, I lied," she says. "Yes, Matt is Nick and vice versa. No, his brothers are not here. Maybe he'll set you up with Joe if you don't say anything."

"You're very thorough," I say, descending the stairs and sitting on the arm of the couch. "She didn't even ask a question."

Lynne rips Cora's hand away from her mouth.

"Your future boyfriend is _Nick Jonas_?" she Irish-whispers. "You had the choice to date him immediately and you _didn't_? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Maybe, just maybe," Cora explains, "I met him less than two days ago and I wanted to get to know him a _little_ better."

"She makes a good point there," I say.

Rose chooses this moment to wake up and see me. She sits there for a second then rubs her eyes and looks at me again.

"Is that who I think it is?" she asks groggily. "Or am I dreaming that Nick Jonas is in your living room?"

"No," Cora replies. "It's really him. Nick is Matt."

"Cool," she says nonchalantly as if she meets famous people everyday. "What time is it?"

"Four-forty-five and twenty-three seconds," I reply, looking at my watch.

"You're so precise," Cora says, shaking her head a little.

"Are we up because of the math test or the sunrise?" Rose yawns.

"_The math test!_" Cora says eyes wide. "I have to learn an entire year's worth of Geometry in one day! Crap!"

"Anything I can help with?" I ask. "I was okay with Geometry."

"Can you explain how to graph on three-dimensional planes?" Cora asks.

"No," I reply. "I can, however, explain SOHCAHTOA to you. And other Trigonometry stuff."

"Trig is the only thing I get."

"Okay, yeah, can't help you there. Musician."

"I know what you mean. Writer."

Writer. I wonder if she writes lyrics. We could write songs together. Songs…

_Oh crap! Not now!_

The song idea hits me anyways. My brain floods with lyrics and notes.

"Song idea," Cora points out, passing me a notebook and pencil from the piano…she has a piano? Whatever. _Guitar._

"It's probably out of tune, but it's the best I can offer," she says, handing me her guitar. "You can use the piano too if you want."

"Thanks," I reply. _Alone time_.

"Okay, let's bring this slumber party up to my room," Cora orders. "Plus we can hit the books better up there."

The three of them start up the stairs. I grab Cora's arm.

"How?" I ask plainly, assuming she'll just read my mind again.

"Magic," she says. "You just looked like you'd had a stroke of genius and I understand how it works with you. Nick+music=life. Nick-music=despair."

My mouth almost drops open as she goes up the stairs. Someone that finally understands.

She's the one.

The one where the second equation isn't true.

The one I'd stop playing music for.

All this from a stupid system of equations.

Math actually helped me figure something out in life.

It's about time.


	8. Betrayed

**The end is near. I'm posting the final three sections of **_**Prom Night**_** now.**

**DISCLAIMERS: I don't own: Musical Ride by Hanson, Don't You by Darren Criss, or Logan Airport**

***Cora***

I think my head's going to explode.

I've been studying for eight hours straight. I took a five minute break at ten to say goodbye to Rose and Lynne, but that was it. I think my brain's going to explode.

"You need a break," Nick prescribes, appearing at my door with a tray of food as I go over circles for the hundredth time.

"I'm fine," I insist, lowering the volume on my stereo a bit. My math book is suddenly hidden by the tray.

"You need to eat," he says. I pick up an apple and take a bite out of it. My mind is so full of math I can't even think of a song that fits.

"Did you finish your song?" I ask.

"Yes," Nick replies. "Do you want to hear it?"

"If you want to play it."

"Yeah. Come on." I follow him downstairs. "I'm going to play it on the piano because it sounds better dynamically."

"Okay. I love piano music." We sit down next to each other on the bench.

Musical Ride-Hanson. Ha! I found a song.

Nick places his hands on the keys then removes them. He looks at me thoughtfully.

"I'm not going to sing it," he informs me. "I'm just going to play the tune. It's not the right time for the lyrics."

"Okay," I reply slowly.

"You don't get it," he says. "I can't explain it. It's…there's…you know, I should just sing it because I can't explain it."

"No I get it," I insist. "There's something wrong with the atmosphere. There's a missing…aspect. Eventually the atmosphere will change and that aspect will be there and it will be…aspect-y…and _that_ will be the time for the lyrics to be heard…and—I'm not explaining this well at all. Point: I understand. I should just shut-up and you should play the tune."

"Sounds good," he says, placing his hands on the keys again.

The song is beautiful. It's slow and meaningful and deep. You can tell that Nick poured his soul into it. It's wonderful.

But it's depressing.

I'm no narcissist, but I was hoping it would be about me and it would be up beat. I was hoping for something that says 'I love you', not something that says 'we're through'.

That's when it hits me…

The reason it's not the right time for the lyrics is because he's going to break my heart. He knows I'm stressing, so he doesn't want to do it now. Yes, it's true. The song could be about a rock. But have you ever overreacted? You can't think clearly. You can only think of the worst, like I am. I'm so jealous of whoever it is that stole his amazing musically inclined heart. Musically inclined…

_ROSE!_

Nick heard her song. He met her. BOOM! We're done. Of course: Rose is beautiful! Why would he choose me over her? In fact, I saw them this morning having a very deep conversation. When I went over to talk to them, they shut-up immediately. And they exchanged phone numbers. They must be conspiring!

I feel like I'm going to cry. All I want is Lynne, my true friend, and a world without boys so hat my heart can stop breaking, but I have to keep listening to the _song_.

"What do you think?" Nick asks, looking at me.

"It's beautiful," I lie. "I love it."

"Really?" he asks.

"Yeah," I reply. I figure out a way to end my misery quickly. "It got me thinking, though. We don't need to wait a week; we're practically dating now. Why don't we just wait until Tuesday to make our decision?"

"Perfect," he says. "I really wanted to get home this week anyways, and it'll just make my life easier if this is all sorted out by then."

"So we're both happy then. I have to go and review rhombi now."

"And thank you. For everything. You don't know how much you've changed my life."

Oh my God. I love him.

I know, I know. He's going to 'break-up' with me in two days for my so-called best friend, but you always want that which you cannot have. I had him, now I'm losing him and I realize how I feel.

Now.

It would have made my life _so_ much easier if I had realized that Friday night.

"That's sweet," I tell Nick. Then I run up to my room, close the door and pace angrily.

I left my iPod on while I was downstairs. Now fate is filling in the soundtrack to my life. I start singing along, with Darren Criss, asking, for a completely different reason, '_Don't you want the way I feel for you?_'

After all, _he_ was the one that saved me. _Nick_ was the one that kissed _me_. _He_ told me my eyes were gorgeous. _I_ could have kept my feelings secret, but _he_ made the first move.

And _Rose_? Please. How could he want someone so superficial? All she's got going for her are her looks and her voice. She's not that smart and I have more talent in my thumb than she has in her whole body. _I_ inspire half of her work anyway. She has _at least_ three songs based off of poems I've written.

Excuse me. I need to go and throw up my apple.

Superficial Nick wants? Superficial he'll get.

***Nick***

I played the wrong song on purpose.

That was the song I wrote for Rebecca.

I want Cora to wonder what it's about then on Tuesday: BOOM! Different song. She'll be so shocked.

I'm so excited, I'm shaking with anticipation.

Wait…that's my phone. I'm cool with anticipation.

"Hello?" I answer without looking at the Caller ID.

"Where are you?" four very familiar voices say in unison.

"It's Sunday," Joe informs me.

"You said you'd be home on Sunday," Mom points out.

"I know, but-," I attempt.

"You said," Kevin interrupts, "and I quote, 'I'm finishing the tour on Friday, bringing Rebecca to the prom, breaking up with her Saturday morning. I should be home by Saturday night'."

"It's Sunday afternoon," Joe tells me. "What happened? And don't say you had plane troubles because every plane has left Logan on time."

"That's new," I comment.

"Nick," Dad says, "just tell us where you are. We've been worried. Are you still with Rebecca?"

"No," I reply. "I broke up with her Friday night."

"At prom?" Dad asks.

"Yeah," I reply.

"Harsh," Joe comments.

"She made out with almost every other guy there," I defend.

"Right on, bro," Kevin states.

"That still doesn't tell us where you are," Mom points out.

"I met this girl, Cora, at prom," I explain. "She was having a bad time too so I brought her home and she let me stay."

"You're at a stranger's house?" my parents ask in unison. "What were you thinking?"

"She's a fan, she wouldn't hurt me," I tell them. "Plus we hung out for about two hours and we got to know each other…pretty well…"

"Oh, you didn't," Joe says, understanding where I'm going.

"You did!" Kevin accuses. "Admit it you kissed and you fell for her!"

"Yes," I sigh. "I kissed her and I fell. Hard. Right on my face. Down a flight of stairs. Head over heels. Tot-"

"We get the point," Mom says.

"Why didn't you just come home like you did with Rebecca?" Joe asks.

"Because it's different than the situation with Becca," I reply.

"What?" Dad asks.

"Are you two dating or not?" Kevin asks.

"Kind of, sort of, not really, yes, no," I reply. "See, she doesn't want to rush things."

"I love her already," Mom says.

"I figured as much," I say. "Anyways, so she doesn't want us to make anything official until Tuesday. Can I stay until Wednesday, please?"

"I don't know, Nick," Dad says.

"I just wrote her a song," I explain.

"Wow," he replies. "You've dug your heels into this one."

"Do you really think that will influence our decision?" Mom asks.

"I'm hoping it might," I reply honestly.

"I don't know," Mom sighs. "You should have filled us in. It would be proper punishment to make you come home."

"Oh, let him stay," Joe says. "He's a big boy; he can take care of himself."

"Yeah, I don't call you everyday, Mom," Kevin adds.

"You're twenty-two and married," Mom points out. "Nick's seventeen and he lives under my roof. I need to know where he is."

"I promise I'll keep you posted until I come home," I attempt to negotiate.

"He _is_ the stubborn one," Joe points out.

"You're right," Dad agrees. "But I want to hear from you twice a day."

"Yes, sir," I reply. "You're the best."

"Yeah, yeah," he says tiredly.

"I have to go now," I say, hearing Cora's door open. "I love you guys."

"Goodbye, Nick," the group replies.

I hang up and sigh. I have actually missed my family. Maybe I could bring Cora with me when I go. She could meet the family _and_ get a nice vacation.

Cora comes down the stairs holding the tray with food still on it.

"The point was for you to eat that," I explain, standing in her way.

"I'm not hungry," she insists coldly.

"Too bad because you're eating it," I say.

"No, I'm not," she counters.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I'm not letting you starve."

"I ate the apple and now I'm full. And I'd like to know what makes you think you can boss be around."

"I'm older and wiser than you."

"Well, I live here. Partial owner…guest…partial owner…guest…I win."

"Where's this attitude coming from?"

"Attitude? Surely I have no idea what you're talking about." And with that cold comment she stalks off to the kitchen.

I think we're in the middle of our first fight.

***Cora***

Somehow, I make it through the day without crying. I just hide in my room, away from the _traitor_. When I go to bed I say an extra prayer for help to pass my exam. I guess it works because when I get the test the next day I feel pretty good about it.

Until the last question.

It's an open response word problem.

My favorite!

_Tim is building a shed and he wants the base to be a perfect rectangle. He doesn't have an angle measurement device. How can Tim be sure the floor to his shed is a perfect rectangle?_

I run through possible answers in my head:

Buy an angle measurement device

Rent an angle measurement device

Borrow an angle measurement device from a friend

Hire a professional

Give up

Personally, I'm partial to option five, but that's just me. In the end I write down something about diagonals because it sounds geometric. I pass in my test without looking it over because I don't think any other answers I come up with will be better. Five minutes later, the bell rings and I make a bee line for my friend Brian's desk.

Now, what I say next is important.

Brian is my best friend. I've known him my _entire_ life. We live three houses away from each other; we've grown up together. Point: we're close.

"Ciao, Brian," I say, hugging him.

"Ciao, Cora," he replies. "Com'è la tua fine settimana? (How was your weekend?)"

"É stata buona (It was good.)," I reply. We talk in Italian all the time because our teacher gives us extra credit if he hears us talking in Italian in the hall.

As we get in line to pass in our textbooks, Rose, who I still hate at the moment, flies by the door yelling, "Matt Steal, What are you doing here?"

Did he really come here to flirt with her? Here? Right, in front of me? Oh, my God. I can't deal with this.

It's going to be a _long_ day.


	9. Fire Only Kills

**DISCLAIMERS: I don't own Amazing Grace.**

***Nick***

Ladies, am I really that bad?

I mean, you throw yourselves at me, begging me to love you. Then I choose one of you and I fall for you and you seem to fall for me. BUT you just turn around and cheat on me. Is it something I do? Does my breath smell? Do I say the wrong thing? I like to _think_ I'm romantic, but is that where I mess up?

I'm only asking because I'm standing outside of Cora's classroom where she just finished her test. Then she went over to this boy's desk then hugged and _kissed_ him.

Mind you, it was on the cheek…His left cheek…The one, _not_ on the door side…But, I swear, she kissed him…And that hug had some real love in it. You could tell…I could tell…

POINT: Cora's cheating on me and this is the second time in a week this has happened to me.

I should have seen this coming. All nerd school students are the same! She's just like Rebecca. I should walk away right now and leave her to cry and be depressed about the fact that she lost me.

That's what I _should_ do.

But my feet won't let me leave her.

"Matt Steal, what are you doing here?" I hear from down the hall. Rose comes running up to me with a huge smile on her face.

"I came to surprise Cora," I reply.

"Aw, that's so sweet," she says. "By the way, I have that demo CD, is this a bad time?" She holds out a jewel case.

"It's fine," I reply, taking the CD. "Are you sure you don't want to tell Cora? She could get the wrong message with all our private talks."

"No, I really want to surprise her."

"Whatever you say. I'll send this to my producer today." I slide the jewel case into my pocket as Cora and mystery man come walking out of the classroom together.

"…pranzo con me?" Cora finishes as they get close.

"Sí, studiamo per l'esame chimica?" the boy replies.

"Probabilmente," she says. I really wish I understood what they're saying.

"Hi, there," I say with a fake smile. "I'm Matt." I offer my hand.

"Brian," he replies, shaking my hand. "Nice to meet you."

"What are you doing here?" Cora asks too sweetly.

"I came to see if you want to get lunch with me?" I reply.

"I just made plans to have lunch with Brian. We're going to study for our Chemistry test," she says.

Of course, Chemistry. Didn't you take Physics? I'm pretty sure you did.

"Do you two mind giving us a second of privacy?" I ask.

"That stairwell is _always_ empty," Brian informs me, pointing.

"Thank you," I say. I pull Cora over by her elbow and she crosses her arms when we're face-to-face. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Nope," she replies.

"Are you sure you're not hiding anything?"

"Like what?"

"Like a guy? You know, like, a boyfriend you haven't told me about?"

"No. Unlike _some_ people, I can be faithful to my significant other."

"Why does that sound more like a stab at me than Rebecca?"

"I have no idea. Why would it be? I mean, the _perfect_ Nick Jonas would _never_ cheat! Why would that thought even occur to me?"

"What's with the sarcasm?"

"What's with the act?"

"What act?"

"The 'I'm so innocent' act."

"I _am_ innocent."

"Eye witnesses say differently."

"And what crime have they seen?"

"You're cheating on me."

"What? No."

"I saw you two talking!"

"No. _You're_ cheating on _me_!"

"Never!"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well, I just saw you _kiss_ him!"

"Impossible, the last person I kissed was you on Saturday morning."

"Do you ever stop lying? I _saw_ you."

"Nonsense, in fact, I can't be cheating on you. We're not even dating!"

"Maybe we shouldn't."

"Fine. Maybe we shouldn't be friends either."

"What?"

"We're through. Rebecca was right about you. You can't care about anything but your music. I hope you two are happy together."

She turns and stomps off angrily and I just stand there, frozen.

Cora has told many lies, but none were as false as that one.

And I just wish she knew the truth.

***Cora***

Nick's gone.

I came home from school and my mother said he'd left.

He didn't say goodbye.

I never thought that he would leave. I just expected my life to be a movie.

He would be packing when I came home. We would yell some more then realize that the whole thing was a complete misunderstanding and we would make up. Life would be perfect, like it was all weekend.

But it's not because he's gone.

Who needs him anyway? He was a cheat and a jerk. A boy. I'm better off without him! I have more important things to worry about than Nick Jonas; like my Chemistry final or my history project.

_My history project!_

It's due tomorrow. Everything needs to be finalized; the PowerPoint needs to be sent to my teacher. It needs to be checked. Oh, crap! I open the document and click to view the slideshow.

The first thing I see is a picture of two skyscrapers and a huge cloud of smoke. The World Trade Center on September 11, 2001 is the first picture we placed on our PowerPoint.

Oh. My. God.

What if there's a terrorist on Nick's plane? The last thing I ever sad to him was a snide comment.

I have to call him.

I have to call him and say I'm sorry. Say goodbye. Say I love him. Say…

Pause.

How would he react to that? Would he freak? Would he be cool? Would he believe me? Do _I_ believe me? Yes. I have to tell him or I could regret it for the rest of my life.

My phone rings as I pull it out. I answer it without looking at the Caller ID and I am forever grateful that I did.

"Turn on your TV," Rose says. "Channel five."

Fire. That's all I see. Fire. Fire and smoke. You can hear the ominous sound of thunder in the background and you can just barely make out the wing of a plane in the fire.

"What is this?" I ask, all anger forgotten.

"Just watch," she orders.

I can't. It's just too horrible. So many lives ruined. Families broken, friends lost. I just can't stand it.

And then it gets worse.

"Only three survivors have been found so far," the reporter says. "For those of you just joining us, twenty minutes ago there was a crash here in Worcester. A plane heading for Dallas, Texas from Logan Airport crashed into a drugstore due to a problem with the landing gear as it attempted to make an emergency landing to avoid a storm…"

My stomach drops. Mom said that Nick was taking the first plane home out of Logan. I know from _People_ Magazine that he lives in Texas and that plane left recently.

"Oh, my God, Rose," I say. "What if he was on that? This morning we had a fight. What if the last thing I ever said to him ends up being a jealous remark about you?"

"Whoa!" she interjects. "About me? Why about me?"

"I saw you two talking yesterday and I thought…," I say, feeling embarrassed.

"He was right, you did get the wrong idea," Rose says. "He's getting me a record deal. We were talking about me making a demo CD. I wanted to surprise you."

"Rose, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. It's fine."

"No, Rose, I may have _killed_ him out of jealousy. I need to call you back."

I hang up and immediately dial Nick number. It goes right to voicemail. Not a good sign.

"Nick, hey, it's Cora," I say frantically. "Call me when you get this message."

I wait five minutes and call again. Five minutes after that, I call again. And again. And again. He never answers.

I breathe deeply, thinking of another way to work this out. I search through my contacts list for my last hope.

"Hello?" Mike answers immediately.

"Slave, I order you to get me Rebecca!" I command.

"Oh, it's you," he says.

"Look, Mike, this is important," I say. "And I got you Rebecca, you should be thanking me."

"How did you know we're dating?"

"The internet. Please get me Rebecca. Now." I hear him cover the receiver and call her over.

"Hi, Cora," Rebecca says. "Enjoying my ex-boyfriend?"

"Not at the moment," I reply. "That's actually why I'm calling. Do you have his home phone number?"

"No, I'm sorry," she says. "Is he okay?"

"I honestly don't know."

"What happened?"

"Long story short, we got into a fight. And he left. On a plane."

"Today?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, my God! Is he…did he…"

"I don't know." Tears well up in my eyes. "His phone is off. Rebecca, he could be dead."

I can't sleep that night. I sit on the couch and watch the chaos unfold. So far there are eighty John Does. It seems like every body they pull out from the smoldering remains has his face. I can't stand it. The unknown is the most frightening thing in the world.

They pull out another body and my heart skips a beat. My mind goes to the bad place and I start rehearsing what I'll be saying the next time I see him:

'_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me…'_

***Nick***

One moment then BOOM!

Explosion everywhere. Fire, debris, crying, mourning.

Rose told me they were just friends. I should have listened. I should have stayed.

And now I think it's too late.

***Cora***

Tuesday: one hundred and ten John Does

Wednesday: one hundred and fifty John Does

Thursday: two hundred and twenty-five John Does

Friday: three hundred John Does

Saturday: three hundred and seven John Does

Three hundred and seven John Does. He died three hundred and seven times.

And I did that to him.

He's gone. Dead.

My heart has never broken like this before.

Tomorrow is my grandparents' anniversary. I'm being forced to attend their party.

I never want to leave this house again.


	10. Prom Night was a Fairytale

**This is the end. Feedback is welcome and encouraged. Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMERS: I do not own South Station, Romeo & Juliet, Disney, or Today was a Fairytale by Taylor Swift.**

***Cora***

I hate this dress.

It's the one I wore to prom. Wearing it makes me feel even deader inside. I have neither slept nor ate all week. I've been silent for two days now too. You may think I'm being over dramatic, but I don't take death well.

When we get to the hall we notice a very picturesque gazebo and go over to take photos. I manage a weak grin for some of the pictures, but I just don't have the heart to even fake it. I rush back into the building once Mom is finished. I just want the night to be over so I can go back to being morose.

"Cora," Aiden calls, walking up to me, "Mom wants you at the gazebo for a solo shot."

I nod and head back outside. I notice a man in a suit standing in the gazebo, but I pay him no mind. Mom can tell him to shove off. I walk slowly, trying not to draw attention to myself.

"Say, Cor-cor," a familiar voice calls, "are you planning on getting over here anytime this century?"

I freeze completely.

My mind is playing tricks on me. I'm over whelmed by grief and I'm imagining things. I'm insane and am hearing voices that don't exist.

"I'm really here, if that's what you're wondering."

My heart starts beating again as I exhale and look up.

Our gaze meets. He grins. I start to cry. He takes a step. I start running. He catches me. I hold on to him the same as the night we first met. Nick will never leave me again.

"You're alive!" I inform him through my tears.

"I thought you didn't cry when you were happy?" Nick replies.

"There are exceptions to every rule, and you being alive is one of them," I explain. "How?"

"I didn't catch the plane," he replied. "I had ticket. My bag was checked. But I never boarded the plane."

"All this time I thought you were dead. Why didn't you answer my calls?"

"My phone died. Every second of my life it's charged, but the one time I need it to be."

"And you couldn't find a pay phone or something because?"

"Because those don't exist anymore."

"So where have you been all week?"

"Would believe Worcester?"

"You're kidding me."

"Nope. I boarded the wrong train out of South Station and wound up in Worcester. Twenty minutes after I got off the train, the plane hit. That's when everything went to hell. Not only was the electricity out for two days, the phones were out until this morning. And no trains were leaving until they found all the victims. So, last night at…"

"Eleven twenty-seven and fifty-eight seconds. I was up. I wanted to see if you'd survived. I guess I should have figured that after five days, six hours, ten minutes and thirty seconds, you'd be dead, but I had hope."

"You counted the seconds?"

"It's not everyday the guy you love dies."

"Did you just say love?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Okay, just so we're clear: there's nothing going on between you and Brian?"

"Absolutely nothing! Gross. He's like my brother!"

"That's a relief."

"Why?"

"I can do this without feeling guilty."

Nick takes my face in his hands and kisses me.

My life starts to feel like a movie again, but I don't care this time because it's the kind of sappy ending I want.

Reluctantly, I push him away.

"Since you were dead on Tuesday, we never made decision," I point out.

"Well, Juliet, it's been four days, we're both still alive: let's go for it," he replies.

"I concur, Romeo," I agree. "We can start kissing again."

We do as I say for another second.

"By the way," Nick says, "this is Disney movie for I love you too."

"Thank God," I say sarcastically. "I was having trouble guessing."

He rolls his eyes and kisses me again.

I start thinking: since my life is a movie, shouldn't it start out as a story?

And the idea hits me.

"Wow," Nick says, "you pen and paper."

"How do you know?" I ask.

"You're not the only one that can read minds," he replies.

And he's right. Tonight, after the party, my pen will fly across the page.

I just need some brain food first.

What?

Two weeks of starving yourself makes you hungry.

ONE WEEK LATER

***Nick***

We have four exciting premieres tonight.

Rose: the first song that's on her album!

Me: the song I wrote two weeks ago!

Cora: a 'short' story _and_ a song!

Everyone came home with me on a private jet with me yesterday (all the landing gear was checked twice before we took off) and now we're sitting in my living room.

Who is everyone? Good question.

Rose, Lynne, Brian (yes), Cora and me. Of course, Mom, Dad, Kevin, Joe, Frankie and Danielle are all here too, but they go without saying.

"You first, Rose," I announce.

"Are you sure?" she asks, holding her guitar tightly.

"Get up there and sing, girl!" Lynne says, pushing her towards the center of the room.

"So this is a song I wrote a while ago," she announces before bending over he instrument and playing a pretty melody with deep lyrics.

"Fantastic," everyone agrees when she's finished.

"You next," I say, pointing at Cora.

"Okay, this is a song that I re-wrote," she tells us. "The original is by Taylor Swift. This is a version I like to call 'Prom Night Was a Fairytale'. I apologize in advance for my voice."

Cora sings through the song well enough, and it really sounds great because she learned how to play the song on the guitar, but the music industry is not for her. Lyrics, maybe, but not performance.

"You should go before I read the novella," she says, handing off the guitar to me. I nod.

"Here is what I should have played two weeks ago," I say. "Maybe if I had, our lives would be simpler."

I let the music flow through me and sing from my heart, barely breaking eye contact with Cora. She smiles as if it's what she had hoped for all along.

"That was so sweet," she says, kissing me on the cheek.

"I try," I tell her. "Now, your manuscript?"

"It's really just a short story."

"I've seen the size of that thing and it is anything, but short. What's it about?"

"It's a love story. Two teenagers meet under weird circumstances and fall in love."

"Sounds oddly familiar."

"I'm sure it sounds like every other girl book that's written, but you may actually like this one."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Check out the title."

Cora flips the story over so that the cover page is showing. I smile.

"Where did you get this inspiration for this?" I ask.

"It just came to me," she replies, getting up and moving to the center of the room. "Two people, two hours, one wild adventure. What follows is a true description of exactly what can happen on your prom night."

THE END


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